‘He seemed so well yesterday when we bumped into them at the Priory in the afternoon,’ Charlie said. ‘You know, all things considered.’
‘He’s like any other child, mostly,’ Holly replied. ‘Except that he can go downhill quickly when he has an illness. Rachel thought they’d nipped the chest infection in the bud with the antibiotics, but I’m guessing being out and about for Willowfest was a bit much for him after being confined to barracks all week.’
‘Will he be all right?’ Charlie asked. ‘I mean, how long will he have to stay in the BRHC?’
‘Could be a couple of days, could be a week or more,’ Holly said. ‘If it’s any longer than a day or two, I’ll head up there in the evenings and keep Rachel company. She’ll be going stir-crazy after a while.’ She shook her head. ‘If only those new drugs had been given the go-ahead, this kind of stuff could be sorted out quickly.’ She looked at him keenly. ‘Five days in hospital on an antibiotic IV drip and the costs will start racking up. Sometimes these decisions on drugs seem so short-sighted.’
‘Is this Harry’s aunt talking, or a constituent?’ Charlie said gently.
Holly could feel her eyes brimming and she blinked the tears away impatiently. ‘It’s someone who’s feeling very frustrated that she can’t do more to help a poorly little boy.’
As Charlie pulled her close, Holly felt temporarily reassured and insulated by the warmth of his embrace and the beating of his heart.
‘So, I guess that means Rachel won’t be coming to watch PMQs on Wednesday, then,’ Charlie murmured into her hair.
‘Supposing Harry was out of hospital, I don’t think she’d want to leave him to zoom down to London so soon, even if he was staying with Mum and Dad.’
‘Completely understandable,’ Charlie replied. He pulled back from her slightly. ‘Does that mean that you, er, won’t be there either?’
Holly smiled. ‘It’s been a while since I’ve bunked off for the day, apart from yesterday of course, and Isabella’s already booked in to hold the fort at ComIncense, so I’m sure I can find my way to Westminster. That’s if you still want me to be there?’
Charlie smiled in a way that reminded her, yet again, of the adorable teenager he once was. ‘Of course I do. The thought of having you in the gallery as I make my speaking debut will make the whole thing a lot less nerve-wracking.’ He kissed her gently. ‘And who knows – perhaps it’ll even win me back your vote!’
‘I wouldn’t go that far,’ Holly laughed. ‘Pretty speeches don’t exactly convince me any more.’
‘Fair enough,’ Charlie replied. ‘But will you allow me to buy you dinner afterwards?’
‘I think I could stretch to that,’ Holly said. ‘Should I, er, change my train ticket and catch an early one back here on Thursday morning?’
Charlie’s face lit up. ‘If you want to spend the night in my minuscule London crash pad, you are more than welcome.’
‘I’d love to,’ Holly replied. ‘Now, hadn’t you better go off and have your coffee? I’m keeping the shop open a little bit longer until trade tails off.’
‘OK.’ Charlie leaned forward and kissed her. ‘I’ll see you in a bit.’
As she watched Charlie wander out through the front door of the shop, she felt an unsettling flood of emotions: worry and concern for poor Harry and Rachel, cooped up in the BRHC for the immediate future, and a real smattering of nerves for Charlie and his upcoming moment during PMQs. Both, in her mind, seemed inextricably and painfully linked.
31
‘You know, as your MP, I will do everything I can to push Harry’s case forward, don’t you?’ Charlie said as they began to climb the steep bank to the flat-topped hill that stood, proud and watchful over the Vale of Somerset. Holly had been acquainting him with some of the things she and Rachel had been doing to raise awareness of Harry’s condition, and the need for new medications, as they’d wandered from where they’d parked the car near the foot of Willowbury Hill.
‘I know,’ Holly sighed. ‘But Harry’s so little, and so much time has been wasted already, it’s difficult to feel hopeful. Don’t get me wrong,’ she added hurriedly, ‘I know you’ll do your best, but you and I both know the wheels of government and legislation turn so slowly that I’m afraid Harry will run out of time before he gets access to the next generation of drugs. Nearly three hundred CF patients have died in the time it’s taken for the authorities and the drug companies to debate this so far. How many more will lose their fight before they come to an agreement on price?’
Charlie stopped on the stepped path they were treading towards the south side of the hill, where they intended to have their picnic. ‘Holly,’ he said, drawing her to him, ‘I promise you that I will do everything I can to help Harry to get access to the medication he needs. And not just because you’re living on my patch, but because health has always been the area I wanted to explore, should I ever have got to this point.’ He stroked a tendril of hair back from her face and kept his palm pressed to her cheek. She looked so beautiful to him, and she would have done wherever she was, but set against the stunning backdrop of the counties-wide view from Willowbury Hill, she looked like some goddess, something not entirely of this world. Cursing himself for the flight of fancy, he struggled to focus on what she was saying.
‘I know you mean well, Charlie,’ she said. ‘And I know you’ll try to do as much as you can. The fact that you care is what makes you such an asset to this place.’
‘I promise I’ll do whatever I can,’ Charlie murmured. ‘Now, are we going to find a place to eat this wonderful picnic? It feels like a long time since breakfast.’
Holly smiled. ‘Sure.’ She gestured to a spot just to the right of where they were standing. ‘If we sit over there, we shouldn’t get in the way of any other walkers.’ She wandered over and they threw down the picnic blanket.
Charlie set the picnic basket down and they began to unpack it.
A little time later, both were sitting companionably, sipping a glass of chilled Sancerre and looking at the breathtaking view that stretched from Brent Knoll and Steep Holm island to the west, through to Dorset in the south, and behind them, to the north, the faint outline of the Quantock Hills. With such a beautiful vista, it wasn’t surprising that soon Charlie felt himself relaxing again, trying to push away the unsettling thoughts about his work, and the real world, losing himself in this scenery, and this moment, with Holly.
He put down his glass carefully on the dry, sun-cracked ground next to the picnic blanket and turned to Holly. ‘I can see why you love it up here,’ he said. ‘It feels, I don’t know, timeless, somehow.’
‘It’s definitely the place to come to get away from it all,’ Holly replied. She smiled. ‘And I do occasionally lead a deep-vision meditation session up here, weather permitting. Perhaps you should come along some time.’
‘Deep-vision meditation?’ Charlie asked. ‘Sounds, er, deep.’
‘Oh, you’re such an erudite speaker!’ Holly teased. ‘It’s not as ridiculous as it sounds, honestly. It’s all about starting with your own breath, which is the cornerstone of all meditation, and then feeling yourself as part of something bigger, something deeper. This place, with its long, mystical heritage, is the perfect setting for a session. People come away feeling rejuvenated and ready to face whatever life throws at them.’